


you're in my blood, you're in my veins.

by frostfall



Series: Cap-Iron Man Bingo: 2020 (Round 1) [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Minor Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson, Minor Carol Danvers/James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Minor Sharon Carter/Natasha Romanov, Minor Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, Minor Tony Stark/Janet Van Dyne, Misunderstandings, Non-Linear Narrative, Past Tony Stark/Tiberius Stone, Pining, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:49:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25592317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostfall/pseuds/frostfall
Summary: Tony always figured that if they ever were to break up, it would be like a blaze. Scorching and hot and all-too blinding. Intense like the two of them have always been.Instead, they break up on a Tuesday, with the rain pelting the windowpane and the midnight silence stifling.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Cap-Iron Man Bingo: 2020 (Round 1) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1628029
Comments: 92
Kudos: 220
Collections: Captain America/Iron Man Bingo





	you're in my blood, you're in my veins.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for the prompt 'Distraction' on my Cap-Iron Man Bingo card. 
> 
> Title comes from [I Don't Want To Love You Anymore](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=__VG6M5dHik) by Caitlyn Smith.
> 
> Special thanks to [starksnack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksnack/) and [ishipallthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishipallthings/) for the beta and [firebrands](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firebrands) for the alpha read!

This time when Tony opens the door, he finds a letter on his doorstep.

 _Tony_ , it says in that scrawl he knows all too well and just like that, his world is turned upside-down once again.

For a moment, Tony doesn’t move. Doesn’t open it. Doesn’t read it.

He thinks of leaving it on the ground for the dust to consume it. He thinks of shredding it into a million pieces. He thinks of taking it inside and turning on the stove to set it on fire.

With a sharp intake, he makes a decision.

* * *

He’s on a train.

Tony doesn’t notice him at first, too busy catching his breath and wringing water out of his clothes. But as he ruffles his hair, scanning the midday crowd, his gaze stumbles upon a pair of clear azure eyes.

Once upon a time, Tony would’ve turned on his heel and started walking. Running. Getting as far away as he can just to avoid a little glimpse.

But now, things have changed. They have changed.

He tears his gaze away and gets to his feet. He probably doesn’t recognize Tony yet. And he shouldn’t. Tony definitely doesn’t look presentable enough to be recognized, doesn’t look—

“Tony?”

Tony’s heart sticks in his chest. The scent of sandalwood and vanilla wafts through the air.

The doors shut. The train moves. The scent doesn’t fade.

With a quiet intake of breath, he steels himself and turns around.

“Hi, Steve.”

* * *

Tony always figured that if they ever were to break up, it would be like a blaze. Scorching and hot and all-too blinding. Intense like the two of them have always been.

Instead, they break up on a Tuesday, with the rain pelting the windowpane and the midnight silence stifling.

They’re in bed when he says it, after another quiet bout of lovemaking, shrouded by the smell of sex and sandalwood and vanilla.

“I think we should stop here,” Steve tells him. “Before we get more miserable. We don’t make each other happy anymore.”

Tony knows he’s saying more, probably trying to let him down gently. Telling him it’s all Steve’s fault. Telling him they’re truly better off this way.

But all he can hear is his heart shattering into a million pieces in the deafening silence called heartbreak.

He turns away and gets to his feet, picking his clothes and pieces off the floor.

“Well,” he says, tasting salt and heartache. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make you happy. I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for you.”

* * *

Most people like to say Tony has never been in love. That he’s incapable of love.

And maybe he was once upon a time. A time when he didn’t know Steve Rogers.

Steve Rogers who saw him at his worst and tried putting him back together.

Steve Rogers who decided that he wasn’t worth the effort anymore.

* * *

Tony doesn’t tell anyone about it. He’s not ready for it. Or at least, for now.

So all he can do is hide in the bathroom that was once theirs as Steve packs the last of his things. Tony doesn’t want to know. See the truth of it. He doubts his heart could take it.

It’s also why he lies in the bathtub, water soaking his clothes as he listens to the banging on his door grow louder and louder and—

With a deep breath, he lays down, sinking lower and lower until all he hears is silence.

* * *

His phone won’t stop ringing.

Bucky has always been a fucking snitch.

* * *

As he expects, Howard’s waiting for him on his doorstep.

“The boy finally left you, eh?” he drawls. “Finally gained some common sense, did he?”

Tony ignores the sharp pain in his chest, the voices in his head agreeing, and fishes his keys from his pockets. 

“Thought you’d send Obie down here. Why? Finally decided Brooklyn’s up to your standards?”

“And here I thought _you_ had grown a brain. Don’t be a fool and come home.”

Tony almost barks out a laugh.

Home? Tony doesn’t have a home. Not anymore. Not the little apartment in front of him. Not the lonely mansion up in Manhattan either.

Howard sighs. It’s the sigh Tony’s heard one too many times, a sigh that speaks a thousand words.

_What did I tell you about playing house?_

_I told you it wouldn’t last._

_You’re a disappointment. And you always will be._

_Of all the people you chose, you had to choose him?_

_I already told you no one loves you._

“That’s the thing about us Starks, son,” he says instead. “We’re not meant for love. People don’t stick around for us. People don’t love us for who we are. And it’s time you finally get that through your thick skull.”

A lump forms in Tony’s throat.

“Fuck you, Howard,” he says as he slams the door shut behind him.

* * *

He doesn’t hear about the move until weeks later. And even then, the news isn’t even from Steve himself.

“He didn’t tell you,” Natasha says. She doesn’t sound surprised. Tony hates the implication of it.

“He didn’t tell me a lot of things,” he replies as he gets to his feet, tossing his phone away without hanging up. He doesn’t check where it lands or if it’s even intact. That’s not his priority right now.

 _He should’ve told me_ Tony thinks as he uncorks his first bottle of wine. _He should’ve fucking told me I was holding him back from chasing his dreams._

But it’s all fine and dandy now. Steve has nothing holding him down anymore.

* * *

The wine, the beer, the whiskey. They should’ve helped heal him. Or at least, help numb the pain.

But Tony keeps waking up to an excruciating headache and a broken heart and maybe, the songs had lied to him.

* * *

New York City is a big place. Tony doesn’t even need to try to avoid anyone. He could stride down the street without anyone batting an eyelid or calling his name.

But then he realizes he’s an idiot for thinking that when he steps inside the diner and finds Steve cradling Sharon Carter’s cheek.

* * *

It’s Rhodey who finds him lying on his side in a pool of alcohol and vomit.

Rhodey. Good old Rhodey. Rhodey, who’s been with him since forever. Rhodey, who deserves better than being friends with someone like him, a nothing.

“Oh, Tony,” Rhodey sighs as he cleans after Tony’s mess for the millionth time. “Why?”

Tony blinks, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. “My heart broke.”

* * *

The first time Tony sees Steve since he moved is in a grocery store.

Tony’s standing in front of the shelves of breakfast cereal, debating on which one has the highest sugar content when he inhales that scent and hears that quiet timbre coming from behind him.

“Fruit Loops?”

Tony hums, ignoring his racing pulse because it can’t be him. Can’t fucking be him. 

“Maybe.”

The footsteps approach. His heart thumps against his ribcage.

“Thought you’d go for the Frosted Flakes.”

“Thinking of trying something different.”

The breath next to him hitches. Tony braces himself and turns.

He looks good. Ridiculously good. His hair longer, combed back. His skin glowing. His eyes the same bright shade of blue the last time Tony saw him.

And god, the beard. The goddamn fucking beard.

No one should look this good after five years. No one should look like a lumberjack and still look this good after five goddamn years.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Tony breathes out and he hates this, hates how his breath catches. “How’re… How’re you?”

“Okay. You?”

“Okay.”

Steve nods, a small smile forming on his face. “Been a while, huh?”

“A long while,” Tony says.

The smile gets bigger. That’s when Tony excuses himself to break down inside his car, the scent of sandalwood and vanilla lingering in the air and his smile seared into his brain.

* * *

Tony drinks and drinks and drinks and hopes it’ll help him forget, one day. 

Or at least, for a day.

* * *

_Tony: You’re right._

_Carol: He actually did it?_

_Tony: Nope. He sent a letter._

_Carol: Stupid son of a bitch._

* * *

Tony should’ve taken a leaflet out of Steve’s page. Move away. Get an apartment. Find someone else to fall in love with. Or at least, move on.

But every time he steps outside, all he can see is Steve, in every single face, in every single place and he thinks, _Maybe. Not yet. Soon._

* * *

He doesn’t see much of Bucky and Sam after. Tony gets it, understands even. They’re Steve’s friends, after all.

He won’t deny it though, how it still hurts when they approach him and try to strike up a conversation because all he can think of is Steve’s arms around his two best friends and—

“How is he?”

Natasha glances away from Kirk fighting Khan, sympathy written all over her face. Tony wishes he doesn’t love her enough to not call her out.

“Is he happy?”

She wraps her perfectly-manicured fingers around a fistful of popcorn. “I think so.”

“You don’t have to lie to me just to make me feel better.”

Natasha frowns, pursing her lips.

“He seems happy.”

Tony nods. Swallows down his tears and pride because nothing good comes from dwelling.

“I’m glad. New York never deserved him.”

“Tony—”

“Don’t.”

Natasha sighs. She inches closer, lacing their caramel-stained fingers together. Tony fights the urge to yank away and hide in his bedroom.

She’s his friend first. But the fact that she’s equally close to Steve doesn’t help matters.

* * *

_Steve: I heard about your dad._

_Steve: I’m so sorry._

_Steve: I wish I could be there with you._

_Steve: Pick up._

_Steve: Please._

* * *

Steve happened to be the reason Tony has been sober for seven years.

It’s no surprise that Steve also happens to be the reason for his relapse.

* * *

One morning, he wakes up. Packs his bags and decides, _Malibu sounds like a great place to be at this time of year._

But then he remembers and suddenly he’s crumbling to the ground because all he can think of is Steve pressing him against that door that’s miles and miles away and kissing the life out of him.

* * *

“Steve’s back,” Natasha says.

Tony nods. “Good for him.”

He hopes it’s enough to fool her. But judging by the number of cookies she ends up baking and the movies she queues up, it’s not.

* * *

In the end, it’s Sharon who brings it up.

“I’m sorry,” she says, cradling her mug of tea like it’s her lifeline. “I should’ve told you.”

For a moment, Tony braces himself. For the pain. The betrayal. The anger.

It doesn’t come.

“Why?”

She flashes him an incredulous look. “Because you’re my cousin. You deserve better than secrets. And I love you.”

 _At least someone loves you_ , he thinks, a little hysterical.

Tony laughs. “You make him happy. And that’s all that matters.” He pauses, something terrible crossing his thoughts. “Does anyone—”

“Bucky and Sam. Nat, maybe.”

Tony sucks in a breath, his eyelids fluttering shut. “When?”

“A month ago.”

He wonders if Rhodey knows. Pepper. Carol. He doubts his heart could take it if they actually do.

Sharon turns away, her gaze trained on the afternoon bustle outside. “He didn’t cheat on you.”

“I wasn’t thinking that.”

Sharon cocks an eyebrow. “Really?”

Tony bites back a retort, taking the opportunity to drown in his black and non-alcoholic coffee.

Next time, he’ll do the ordering.

* * *

“Don’t break my heart,” Tony whispers. “It’s been through a lot.”

Steve smiles and trails his lips down Tony’s jawline. “Never.”

It’s a sweet lie.

* * *

He hates how that even living in a big city like New York, he keeps running into Steve fucking Rogers.

* * *

The next time he sees them together, it’s at Natasha’s birthday party.

Tony's nursing a cup of lemonade, scanning the crowd and counting down the seconds until he can slip away when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

And there they are in front of him, blonde and blue and beautiful and all-too perfect. 

“Hey, Tony,” Sharon says, her voice bright and way too cheery and ethereal as always. “How’re you?”

“Good,” he replies, throwing out a smile. “Really good.”

Steve manages a lopsided one of his own. Opens his mouth.

But then suddenly Carol’s at his side, excusing the both of them and drags him over to where the food is. 

“Care Bear—”

“Here,” she says, thrusting a slice of red velvet cake towards him and it’s not fair that she’s playing dirty. He could never say no to red velvet.

Even so, being here, surrounded by his friends, is the lightest he felt since he got here. It doesn’t lessen the pain in his chest though.

* * *

He should be happy for them. Sharon’s his cousin, after all. She deserves everything and good. So does Steve.

Steve and Sharon. The golden couple. With their perfect blonde hair and perfect blue eyes and perfect teeth and perfect everything.

She’s perfect. So is he. They’ll make each other happy. Better than Tony could ever. And that’s okay.

* * *

When Tony opens the door, he doesn’t expect to see James Buchanan Barnes on the other side.

He knows Bucky hasn’t always been a fan of his, always harbored suspicion, throwing in jabs at Tony every now and then.

A part of Tony wonders if he’s glad about this development, glad that Steve finally saw the light and ditch Tony ‘good-for-nothing’ Stark.

“Care to tell me why the fuck you’re here?”

Bucky frowns, arms crossed in front of his chest. “It’s two in the afternoon.”

“So?”

“So, you smell like a fucking brewery.”

“It’s a Sunday.”

Bucky sighs, wiping his face. “Steve’s not gonna like this.”

Tony’s body goes taut. He tightens his grip around the neck of the bottle he’s holding. He thinks it’s vodka, maybe rum. Tequila.

“Steve isn’t my boyfriend anymore,” he forces out. It’s a miracle he hasn’t burst into tears yet.

Bucky’s eyes flash, something dark and angry behind it. “Stark—”

Tony flinches.

Stark. Even after all these years, he’s still Stark.

Of course. Of fucking course.

He slams the door shut and smashes the bottle against the wall, ignoring the thumping behind him.

* * *

One night, he has enough.

He shrugs on his leather jacket, pulls on the tightest pair of jeans he owns, and heads to the nearest club he can find.

Nothing much happens. Nothing that he can really recall. All he remembers are the neon lights and the pulsating beats and the drinks. Fruity drinks. Spicy drinks. Drinks that burn. Drinks that make him light-headed.

And then there’s the man. 

The man who pushes Tony against the bathroom stall. The man who pulls him into the nearest taxi. The man who fucks him into the mattress.

It’s good. Helps dull the pain, his senses. At least for the moment.

But the high wears off and Tony’s train of thought returns and all he can think of is his blond hair and soft smiles and softer touches and just like that, he breaks.

The man just looks at him with sad, sad eyes and suddenly Tony hates him. Hates him for pitying him. Hates him for choosing Tony in the first place. Hates him for having the same blue eyes as Steve. Hates him for giving him orgasms that couldn’t make him forget.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work,” the man says and fuck he’s so kind. So nice. Just like Steve.

God, Tony hates him so, _so_ fucking much.

Tony sighs, sinking back under the covers, sinking back under his self-loathing and misery. “You and me both.”

* * *

Sometimes, his friends forget. They slip his name in conversations. The places he’s been to. The things he’s been up to. How happy they make each other.

And each time, they’d backtrack. Apologize. Change the subject. Try to make him feel better.

They shouldn’t. It’s not their fault he can’t move on.

* * *

Breaking up has always been funny to Tony.

‘Ours’ become ‘his’, ‘hers, or ‘theirs’, and ‘mine’. Old haunts become memories until the time is right. Nostalgia hits in waves until it just fades altogether.

And sometimes, ‘ours’ becomes ‘theirs’.

* * *

_Steve: Bucky told me you’re drinking again._

_Steve: Please call me._

_Steve: Text me._

_Steve: Anything. Please answer me._

_Steve: I’m so sorry._

_Steve: Tony, open the door._

_Steve: I know you’re home._

_Steve: Please._

_Steve: I’m sorry._

_Steve: Tony?_

* * *

“Tony?”

It’s a voice he doesn’t recognize. A customer, most likely.

“Here!” he calls from under the Mercedes he’s fixing up. He rolls out and gets to his feet. Picks up the nearest cloth to wipe the grease from his fingers. “Anything I can—”

The words die at the back of his throat.

“Jan?”

The smile she sends his way is blinding, her blue eyes twinkling. 

She always has the prettiest smiles.

* * *

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

Tony glances up from his tablet. “Done what?”

Steve lets out an annoyed exhale, sitting up straighter on the bed. “You know what. I’ll go to Howard. First thing tomorrow. I’ll tell him to take you back and—”

“I never wanted that,” Tony says fiercely, dropping his tablet onto his lap. “I never wanted to be CEO of a company with blood on its hands. I never wanted the spotlight. I never wanted…” He sighs, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I never wanted anything or anyone but you.”

“But—” 

“Don’t. I don’t care about all that,” Tony insists. “I don’t. I’m happy the way I am now. I have a business that’s doing fine. I have friends who care about me. And I have you. And that’s all I need. As long as you don’t regret it. Regret everything.”

“I don’t,” Steve says and pulls him into one of his soul-crushing kisses.

He always knows how to take Tony’s breath away.

* * *

Somehow, some-fucking-how, Tony always seems to chase away the people he cares about.

Tony downs a bottle of whiskey, disassembles and reassembles a couple of cars, goes out to a bar, and returns home with four people on his arm.

And yet when his mind clears, he can recall the sound of Steve’s laugh and his blinding grin.

Maybe it’ll work tomorrow.

* * *

He’s angry at first. Of being lulled into a false sense of security. Letting every inch of him love and be loved when he was always second best.

But that’s no one’s fault but his. He was naïve enough to believe there’s someone who would stay with him. Like he thought Sunset would. Or Whitney. Or Ty. Or Steve.

Especially Steve.

* * *

There’s a knock on his door. Tony opens it.

All of his friends stand on the other side, clutching bags of takeout and fiery determination radiating from them.

“Hey,” Pepper begins, flashing him a blinding grin, “thought you might need a pick-me-up.”

* * *

_Tony: So… Sharon asked to meet with me for lunch._

_Tony: With Steve._

_Jan: Oh god._

_Jan: Oh fucking god._

_Tony: Oh fucking god, is right._

_Jan: Need a plus-one?_

_Tony: God, yes. Please. I’ll owe you forever._

_Jan: ;)_

_Tony: Not like that._

_Jan: :(_

_Tony: ..._

_Jan: ;D_

* * *

If heartbreak is like scars, Tony would have a million of them marring his skin.

* * *

When Sharon brings Steve over for Aunt Peggy’s seventieth birthday party, he locks himself in her bedroom for most of the night.

“I know you’re not sick,” Aunt Peggy says much later when everyone has left. Or at least that’s what she says.

Tony opens his mouth to retort, lie, explain, but like the miracle she is, she just sighs and says, “Not in the way you’re telling everyone.”

He’s a sobbing mess after that, clutching onto her like she’d disappear. He feels terrible about ruining her birthday like this. She doesn’t need this, needs him.

Tony tells her that. She shakes her head, shushes him and rocks him to sleep like she did all those years ago when he was young and felt like something.

“When does it end?” Tony whispers.

Peggy sighs, cards her fingers through his hair. “One day.”

“It doesn’t feel like it will.”

“I know,” she says. “But it will. One day.”

* * *

They break up on a Tuesday, with the rain pelting the windowpane and the midnight silence stifling.

They’re in bed when he says it, after another quiet bout of lovemaking.

Or at least, Tony thought it was lovemaking. Steve’s eyes were open the whole time.

Fuck, he really should’ve seen the signs.

* * *

One day, he’s sitting on the couch, watching some stupid soap and a bowl of popcorn in his hands when he realizes that he hasn’t thought of Steve the past couple of days.

Then, he’s all Tony can think of the rest of the night.

* * *

Jan doesn’t stop by his shop for a fix. She stops by to reconnect.

And it’s nice, sharing a couch and greasy pizza as they catch up. During his miserable life in high society, Jan was the only bright spot in all of it. She, with her bright blue eyes and auburn curls and dazzling outfits, and wonderful smile.

Besides Carol and Rhodey. And well, him.

“I’m sorry about SI,” she says when the conversation winds down.

Tony shrugs his shoulders, taking a sip of his coke. “Don’t be. Never wanted to be a part of that. Sides’, it’s not SI anymore.”

“Technically it is,” Jan points out, cheeky smile on.

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine. Stane does start with an ‘S’.”

That’s the last conversation he remembers sharing with her. Because suddenly her lips are on his and her hands are in his hair and his are under her shirt trailing higher and higher and—

Then it hits him. She doesn’t smell of sandalwood or vanilla. She smells of peonies and apples.

And just like that, he remembers.

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispers against her lips. “I can’t stop— I just can’t stop ruining things and—”

He squeezes his eyes shut because he can’t look at her, can’t let her know how much he fucked up, how much he—

“Oh Tony,” Jan murmurs, pulling into an embrace and fuck, she’s so _warm_. “You haven’t ruined a thing.”

* * *

Sometimes, heartbreak isn’t pain. It’s just nothing but numbness.

* * *

“Does she make you happy?” Tony asks because he’s a masochist.

Steve blinks, his eyes drifting to the sky.

It speaks volumes.

* * *

One head-pounding morning, he wakes to familiar faces staring down at him.

Pepper and Sharon are clutching each other, their cheeks tear-streaked. Natasha’s hands are balled into fists. Carol keeps her distance from the bottles, her eyes trained on Tony’s. Rhodey sighs, thumbing the empty bottle in his grip. 

“Tony,” he says seriously, his eyes ablaze. “we need to talk.”

* * *

_Steve: I heard what happened._

_Steve: I just want to tell you how proud I am of you. And that I’m super supportive of you._

_Steve: I know it wasn’t an easy decision. To do that._

_Steve: Just know that I’m here for you._

_Steve: I’m always here for you. Even if I’m not there._

* * *

Jan’s wonderful. The only problem is that she can’t fill the gaping hole in his chest.

That’s okay. She’s not meant to replace Steve. Never was to.

Even if she has blue eyes a couple shades darker or smiles at Tony like he hangs the moon and the stars in the sky and makes him feel like he’s worthy.

She’s just a friend he needs around, another friend to keep him sane, to keep him from reaching for the bottle.

And that’s more important than anything else.

* * *

“Marry me?” Steve asks, his smile bright like the sun.

Tony stares at the shining silver and red and takes a breath in.

* * *

On one of his drinking binges, he meets him.

“Tony!” he hears that voice call him over pulsating beats. “Is that you?”

He should resist him. Should tell him no. Should leave right now.

But it’s Ty. Good old Tiberius Stone who smells of cigar smoke, whiskey, and toxic waste.

Tony could never say no to good old Ty.

* * *

Jan’s wonderful with Steve and Sharon. She smiles when she’s supposed to smile, laugh when she’s supposed to laugh, teases Tony at every chance she gets because she’s freaking Jan van Dyne.

And it’s all good and dandy, seeing Jan and Sharon become best friends. 

Steve’s a different story though. There are moments, moments when he watches Steve’s gaze wander and linger and tighten, his eyes darkening. It’s probably nothing.

And that just makes his blood boil.

“Tell me,” Tony begins, when the food is polished and the waiter has disappeared with his credit card. “When did it happen?”

Steve blinks, startled. “What?”

Tony chews on his bottom lip, hoping Sharon and Jan would come back from the bathroom right now. If both of them didn’t need to go to the bathroom, he wouldn’t be stuck in this situation.

“You falling out of love with me. When?”

Steve’s cheeks pale. “Tony—”

“Don’t Tony me,” Tony snaps. “Just fucking tell me.”

Steve drifts down to the table cloth. It’s a light shade of yellow. It must’ve been white once.

He hears the sound of a fork stabbing something. 

Then, he tells Tony, tells him everything. He shouldn’t have.

Throughout the whole spiel, Steve’s ears are a bright shade of red. Tony lets himself indulge, lets himself wonder if everything Steve is saying is a lie. 

But then again, Steve has no reason to lie to him. Definitely not to spare his feelings, feelings that Steve has disregarded time after time again. 

The mind and the eyes make an awfully creative pair.

For a long moment, neither of them breathes a word out. Tony keeps his gaze trained on the horizon and hopes his fingers would stop shaking soon.

He wonders if Sharon and Jan even went to the bathroom.

Something warm covers his hand. Once, it would’ve brought him comfort. But all Tony feels is the endless pit of despair.

“Tony—”

“You could’ve at least had the decency of ending it earlier instead of stringing me along and making me feel like a complete idiot,” Tony says, steel cold before he yanks his hand back and storms away.

For the next couple of days, his phone won’t stop ringing. It stops when he launches it across the room.

* * *

Tony hasn’t drunk a single drop of alcohol in six months. Everyone’s going to freak when they find out. Everyone at AA is already acting like he won the lottery.

A part of him is happy, happy that his friends are happy, that he’s proven his father wrong yet again, that he’s becoming himself again, to the man he was before Howard pushed that glass of whiskey into his grubby, six-year-old hands. 

But at the same time, he’s afraid. His relationship with alcohol has always been a rollercoaster. Alcohol has shaped his identity. Alcohol is what helped him through the numbness and the pain.

Without alcohol, what’s to stop him from losing himself again? 

* * *

The only reason why Tony turned Steve’s proposal down is because he thinks he won’t make a good husband. Nothing more, nothing less.

* * *

“He dumped me.”

Tony stumbles, almost tripping over his own feet. Sharon steadies him with a tight grasp. After all this time, she’s always there to catch him when he falls.

“Shit. Sorry. Should’ve brought it up later,” she says, grimacing.

“No. I just—” He blinks. “ _What_? When? Do I have to kick his ass?”

Sharon scoffs, thumbing her ponytail. “I just thought you should know first.”

“Share—”

“He still loves you, you know?”

Tony stills.

Sharon flashes him a smile that is void of bitterness or anger. “It was never that serious between us. Not in the way the both of you were.”

“We were together for three years,” Tony points out. “You and him, were like, what? A year? Maybe if you’ve had the time—”

“Ten months,” she corrects. “And no. I don’t think so. Don’t get me wrong. He was great and what we had was great but he’s not over you.”

Tony doesn’t know what to do with that. Instead, he turns away, his gaze glued onto the record store across the street. Steve loves vinyl records.

He can hear the smile in Sharon’s voice. “Forgive me?”

Tony barks out a laugh and pulls her into a tight embrace. She smells like jasmine and old books and sweet peach tea.

“What’s there to forgive?”

* * *

Most people like to say Tony has never been in love. That he’s incapable of love.

Anyone who says this is dead wrong.

Tony loves with all of his heart. He loves and loves and loves until his body bleeds of it. And each time his heart breaks, he lets himself bleed and bleed until he can finally pick himself up and try again.

It should be the same with Steve. And yet somehow, he can’t move on.

* * *

Throughout the whole train ride, they talk.

Steve tells him about the comics he’s shelved out, how Bucky and Sam finally got their shit together, that tonight a local art gallery is exhibiting his artwork.

Tony tells him about how business is booming, how he had to be the third wheel to Rhodey and Carol’s dates for the millionth time, that he’s on his way to meet a friend.

“Jan van Dyne, right?” Steve asks. “Been a while since I heard from her. How’s she?”

Tony nods, wondering how he knows. “She’s good. I’m actually on my way to meet her.”

The bright smile slips off Steve’s lips. At the exact same time, the train comes to a halt.

That’s when reality crashes down.

Because this is Steve Rogers who he’s talking to, the man who broke his heart, the man Tony thought he’s over and done with, the man he’s still hopelessly in love with after five miserable years.

How could he think he could ever have a normal conversation with him and be okay? How could he let himself be close to him, be near to him when they’ve turned to strangers?

“This is my stop,” Tony says, his voice sounding far away to his ears.

Steve raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. Tony hates that they’ve been reduced to this – strangers who tell each other lies.

“Tony—”

The doors open. He turns to leave, to run and hide and—

Fingers latch around his wrist. It’s warm, comforting, and all too familiar.

“You should come,” Steve says. “To the gallery. It’s tonight. I mean, if you have time.”

Tony blinks. “Sure. Okay.”

He’s almost home free when he hears those very words.

“You were always good enough for me.”

And just like that, he freezes.

Because he can’t do this. Not again. Never again. He came back from hell slightly stronger, a little better. He can’t do this again. Never again.

So with renewed resolve, he shakes off his hold and runs and runs until his legs give out underneath him in the middle of nowhere.

* * *

He reads it once, twice, thrice, over and over until the words are seared into his brain.

Tony glances out of the window, nursing a mug of hot chocolate. It’s two in the morning. Ten at night somewhere else. The perfect time to pop into the nearest liquor store and purchase their finest bottle of whiskey.

But then he remembers the chips Pepper framed up in his bedroom and all the encouraging things people have said and takes a sip from his mug instead. 

He won’t let all his effort go down the drain. Not over something like this. Not for anything ever again.

* * *

_Jan: Tony?_

_Jan: You okay?_

_Tony: Yeah. Sorry. Something came up. I can’t meet today._

_Tony: Sorry._

_Jan: Don’t worry about it._

_Jan: There’s always next time._

Tony stares at it, drumming his fingers on his lap before he replies.

_Tony: Actually, I was wondering if you’re free tonight._

* * *

When Tony steps inside the gallery with Jan on his arm, the first thing he sees is Natasha and Sharon in a corner, their arms linked together and their soft gazes and smiles never leaving each other.

Maybe he’s not the only one in the family who deals with pining in weird ways.

* * *

“Okay,” Carol says as they lay on the cold hard ground in his apartment. “Indulge me for a bit.”

Tony groans. Nothing good comes out of that.

“Seriously, Tony. Just indulge me for a sec.”

He scoffs. “Fine. Whatever.”

Carol huffs. “Okay. So let’s say he winds up on your doorstep—”

“He won’t wind up on my doorstep.”

Carol turns her head to the side. “It’s a hypothetical question, Tony.”

Tony rolls his eyes, ignoring the stab in his chest. He motions for her to continue.

“Okay. Hypothetically, let’s say he winds up on your doorstep. Asking you to take him back. Would you?”

“Why the fuck would he do that?” Tony asks. “He’s with Sharon.”

“You’re not answering the question.”

Tony rolls onto his back, his eyes glued to the ceiling. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

* * *

When Steve and Jan meet, just the two of them, nothing explodes. Tony’s glad for that.

Even the strange looks Steve used to shoot Jan and Tony have ebbed away. This time, he seems more genuine with his smiles and tone, even if they waver every now and then.

If that’s odd, things get much weirder.

At some point in the night, Jan’s pulled into a conversation with some big-name designer, leaving Tony to explore the gallery alone.

That’s how he winds up in front of one of Steve’s paintings. It’s one of Steve’s comic book characters but painted in glorious red and gold acrylic. Like all of his art, it’s a masterpiece. Tony has to refrain himself from stepping over and running his disgusting fingers all over them.

“Tony?”

It’s Ty. Good old Tiberius Stone smelling of cigar smoke, whiskey, and toxic waste.

Maybe when he was weak and fragile, Tony would’ve welcomed those arms, would’ve let Ty push all the alcohol into Tony’s hands, would’ve let Ty pull him into the nearest bathroom stall to suck him off.

But that was then and this is now and time is a cruel, cruel bitch and people are crueler.

“Ty,” Tony says stiffly. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Of course I’m here. Where there’s quality art, I’m there.” Ty frowns, giving Steve’s painting a once-over. “Though I’m having second thoughts about that. This is ugly. Who the hell—”

“Cut the bullshit, Ty,” Tony snaps. “We both know you know this is Steve’s.”

Ty’s smile turns sharp. “Steve, huh? You’re still hung up on that idiot? After all this time?” He steps closer until their noses brush, his breath searing and sour. “Tell me does he know how much you begged for it that night—”

“I’m going to stop you there,” Tony interrupts. “One, we already broke up when—”

“You guys broke up and yet here you are, pathetically defending—”

“His art has always been amazing,” he cuts in. “I’ll always support everything he does.”

“Even after he dumped you?”

Tony feels the words in his throat shrivel up, all of the memories of the past days, weeks, months, years, flooding his mind. 

He won’t deny everything that’s happened – the hurt Steve has caused him, the way he fell off the wagon because of a broken heart, the destructive vices he picked up to numb his pain. That happened to Tony and there’s nothing he can change about that.

Just like his feelings for Steve. No matter how hard he tries to forget, how far he runs, there’s no escape from the truth, the truth that even after all this time, he still loves Steve. And as long as Tony breathes, he’ll protect Steve from scum like Ty. He deserves better than getting shit from Ty. 

Steve deserves everything.

“Even then,” Tony echoes firmly. “Because I love him. I’ll always love him. There’ll always be a part of me that’ll love him. Because he’s everything good in this world, everything I aspire to be. He makes me want to be good. Be better even though I never could measure up to him. And he’s right to dump me. Because he deserves better than some fuckup like me. And I’m glad he dumped me because he deserves better.”

He spins on his heel, eager to storm off to will his racing pulse someone quiet. He’s stopped by a pair of clear azure eyes.

He doesn’t wait for him, doesn’t look up to see his reaction, dashing off to find Jan so he can get the fuck home.

* * *

_Tony: I’m gonna do it._

_Sharon: Oh, thank god._

_Rhodey: Okay, but if he fucks you over, Imma beat his ass._

_Pepper: Me too._

_Natasha: Me three._

_Carol: Count me in._

_Jan: Hear hear._

_Sharon: Same here._

_Tony: …_

_Tony: Seriously, guys..._

_Pepper: Let’s be real, it’s a long time coming._

_Tony: You’re not wrong about that._

* * *

Tony finds him sitting at the back, nursing a mug of coffee as he bows his head, doodling on a napkin.

He approaches with tentative steps before clearing his throat. Steve whips his head upwards, eyebrows arching. He’s looking at Tony like it’s the first and the last time he’ll see him. Tony doesn’t know what to make of that.

“Tony! I—”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Tony interrupts. “A fucking self-sacrificing idiot. You know that?”

Steve smiles but it’s uneasy. “What can I say? I’m your fucking self-sacrificing idiot.” His body goes taut. “I mean, unless you, uh…”

Tony rolls his eyes, flops down opposite him, and orders a tall stack of pancakes.

* * *

_Tony,_

_I’m trying to figure out what to say. Write. I’ve written pages and pages of words and paragraphs and nothing comes out looking right. Hell, this is probably my fiftieth try. You might think it’s a joke but it’s true. The trash can is filled to the brim with paper balls as we speak. If you were here, you’d probably laugh and tell me I’ve always been better at actions than words and then try to encourage me the way you always do. But you’re not here and well, that’s no one’s fault but mine._

_Honestly, this letter has been long overdue. I should’ve written this a long time ago. Definitely should’ve penned this as soon as Sharon and I broke up. Hell, I should’ve told you this years ago when I told you we were over. Maybe then you wouldn’t have left with that haunted look on your face. I hate that I left you like that, hurt you in that way. I promised you to never do anything like that and there I was, hurting you. And I’ll always hate myself for that._

_You’re probably thinking of throwing this away now. But please. Just hear me out. You can burn it later. Or shred it. Do whatever the hell you want with it. Just do it after you read it. I just need to tell you all this. Before it’s too late. Before I lose you forever._

_You know, I always thought I knew what you needed. And that’s just like me, isn’t it? Thinking I know people better than they know themselves. And I really did thought I did at the moment. And one day, I woke up and realized that Howard and Stane were right. You didn’t need me. After all, I’m just some ordinary guy from Brooklyn. You’re Tony Stark, one of the most brilliant minds in the world. And you chose me? It didn’t make sense. Never did. Even that night when we first met at my first art show, you were larger than life. You were this bright star in the sky that I could never, ever come close to. Because I was nothing compared to you._

_And maybe that was my fault for seeing you as larger than life. Maybe if I hadn’t thought that way, I wouldn’t have let you go this easily. Maybe I would’ve still had you._

_Looking back, I should’ve said something. Asked you why you turned down my proposal. But I was too focused on my own feelings and my own insecurities to ask. Maybe you should’ve told me why. But I also should’ve asked. Should’ve told you how I felt and thought in that moment. Instead, we just pretended it never happened and tried putting it behind us._

_And I tried, for you. You seemed alright with forgetting. So I did my best. But I failed. God, I failed. All I could think of is the whys. Maybe Howard or Stane finally convinced you I wasn’t good enough for you. Maybe you realized that being with me was a mistake. Maybe you finally saw me as who I always have been – nothing._

_That’s why I broke up with you that night. It’s why I begged Timely to move me down to the Washington branch. It’s a shit excuse, a shit explanation. But it’s the truth._

_And the worst part about it is that I thought you’d bounce back. You always do. When the going gets tough, you always know how to push back. I thought I’d bear the pain and misery for the both of us. I thought I’ll be the one suffering between the both of us._

_But after hearing what Bucky said, what Sharon and Nat said, I realized I was wrong. So fucking wrong. I was an idiot to think that you’d be okay, that you wouldn’t be hurt. Just shows how much I know you, huh?_

_I can’t tell you how ashamed I am right now, how angry I am at myself. I pushed you to the point of relapse. I still can’t believe I made you do that to yourself. I should’ve tried harder to be there for you. I should’ve dropped everything and ran home to you, no matter the cost and no matter how hard you push me away. Because you needed me. You needed me and I wasn’t there. You needed me because I fucked up and I couldn’t even be fucking there._

_But I’m here now. If you still want me in your life, I’m here._

_And then, I thought I lost you to Jan. I heard about her from everyone, how she makes you happy, the pictures with the both of you together. So loved up. So… Yeah. I thought you were finally healing, finally getting better without me._

_Then again, who am I to judge? I got with Sharon. And I’ll admit, Sharon and I, we did share a spark. We did care about each other. But really, we were only using each other, thinking we couldn’t have the people we wanted to be with. And when we broke up, I felt better, easier. Being with her? It didn’t feel as easy as it was being with you. And I was resigned to living a life without you, to actually try to move on. All I ever wanted for you is your utmost happiness. And if it’s a life without me, a life with someone else, I’d gladly sacrifice that._

_But hearing what you said to Stone changed things. For the first time in years, I felt like I had a chance, a chance to make things right, a chance to tell you everything before I lose you forever._

_There’s so much I want to tell you, so much I want to clear up with you. Which is why I’m hoping you’re willing to meet with me. I hope we could talk things over. I’m willing to listen and I swear, I won’t jump to conclusions anymore. I’ll do right by you, I swear._

_Meet me at Sam’s on Sunday at eleven in the morning. I know how you felt about early mornings. I know you hate them. Here’s me guessing you still feel the same._

_I love you too. I’ll always love you too. I don’t know why I thought I could move on from you. What am I saying? I’m an idiot. But you already know that by now._

_I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry about everything. I know that won’t change things. I know apologies won’t erase everything you’ve gone through because of me. But that’s all I can offer you now. My heart._

_Yours always,_

_Steve_

**Author's Note:**

> I made a playlist for this. [Give it a listen!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/37ai4dESgX9Jt4vJJ6EXh3?si=xp5Zlo3YRW21H0ahZR7Frw)
> 
> You can reblog this on Tumblr [here]().
> 
> Come holler at me on [Tumblr](https://nethandrake.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kapteniron). I'd love to hear what y'all thought! :D


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